Harry Potter and the Unrefusable Offer
by twistyguru
Summary: Voldie's dead, Harry just wants to be left alone. As if! You don't kill a Baddie like Voldie without people noticing. Now EVERYBODY wants Harry, not just the Quidditch teams. Multiverse cameos, character bashing, Harry/female canon character not telling! . Hetero!Harry don't get used to it from me , no spoilers, non-Epilogue compliant. M for language, smoochies; no aardvarking.
1. Chapter 1

**After killing Voldemort, Harry thought he could fade away and be forgotten. Silly boy!** You don't kill a baddie as nasty as Voldemort without people noticing. Now, the recruiters are starting to swarm like files to honey, and Harry has to at least talk to them.

I pulled in just about every Organization I could think of to put in an appearance. See how many you recognize immediately, and how many you have to Bing (it really is a better search engine, despite being a Microsoft product).

This was written for **Capctr**, who is squicked by my (relatively mild, except for Bound to Please) slashy stories. So, it's going to be **Hetero!Harry**. You have no idea how hard that was for me. I will probably do a horribly adult polymorphous perverse 'alternative ending', but the first draft of _that_ melted my old monitor.

**Chapter One:** In which Our Hero finds out that being the Savior of the Wizarding World comes with a price, which is that everybody wants you on their team...and not just the Quidditch teams, either.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own ANY of the plethora of characters you'll see here. If you recognize them, it's because I thought highly enough of them to mention them. No profit is being made from this work.

**Harry Potter and the Unrefusable Offer**

**Chapter 1**

If there had been one thing keeping Harry Potter going through all the difficult times leading up to the final battle with Voldemort, it was the hope that someday—assuming he survived, of course—he could stop being 'The Savior of the Wizarding World' and get on with being 'just Harry'. Sadly, this was not to be the case.

Harry had escaped Madam Pomphrey's tender mercies less than three days before he'd finally had enough. Granted, he'd been comatose after the battle for nearly a week, then endured several more days of horrible potions and mother-henning from the mediwitch. He'd assumed that his prolonged stint in hospital would give people time to begin returning to normal, to go back to their lives as best they could, and forget about one Harry J. Potter. Again, this was not the case.

The frank stares he could live with. They at least were honest. No, what bothered him were the sideways glances, or the suddenly turned heads and averted eyes whenever he looked at someone. It seemed that everyone in the school, with the exception of Ron and Hermione, couldn't stop looking at him like he was, well…some kind of 'freak'. He hated that, he really did.

Ron and Hermione weren't helping. As usual, all Ron wanted to talk about was Quidditch or chess, and all Hermione did was nag him about, well, everything. From revising for his NEWTS, to eating more, to questions about his feelings, sleep pattern and once (Sweet Mother of Merlin!) whether or not his bowel movements were regular, Harry hadn't a moment's peace since Poppy Pomphrey turned him loose.

At least Poppy just monitored the bedpans, and then the loo, and not come right out and asked. Besides, she had a medical reason for needing to know, since several of the curses he'd been hit with often left residual internal damage.

Hermione's questioning about his bodily functions, and her subsequent lecture on the Evils Of Constipation and Irregularity had, true to fashion, been delivered in her usual too-loud voice, in the too-public venue of the Gryffindor common room. The result was that the firsties of every single Mordred-cursed House now snickered whenever the Golden Trio walked by.

He'd heard one of the firsties refer to them as 'Harry and the Poo Patrol'. The temptation to curse the prat into next week was almost too much for him to resist, but Harry had to admit it was a tiny bit funny. Just a bit. Just like the shoe-lace-tying-together hex Harry sent at the evil little git was a tiny bit funny.

That particular firstie was muggle-born, and within the week had written to his parents, demanding trainers with Velcro straps. Neither he, nor his children, nor his grandchildren were ever able to wear shoes with laces.

So, on his third day back in the real world, Harry'd had enough. He'd faked a headache right before lunch (actually, the thought of sitting through one more meal with Ron the Human Garbage Disposal on one side and the Captain of England's Olympic Nagging team on the other gave him a very real headache) and gone up to his room to take a nap. He'd counted on Ron saying something stupid about missing the meal (he had) to set Hermione off on yet another rant (she had) as a distraction. He'd grabbed his invisibility cloak, snuck back down the stairs and out the portrait hole without anyone noticing.

Since it was a nice day, he'd decided to walk down to Hogsmeade, rather than deal with the Whomping Willow, the nasty tunnel, and the filth in the Shrieking Shack. Naturally, this was the wrong thing to do.

He'd not take a dozen steps past the gates of the school before he'd felt a strange tingling sensation. Then, before he could react, he'd found himself in a room made of shiny metal and plastic, being given the once-over by a buxom brunette, a tall man in a bright red, yellow and blue outfit, and another, equally tall man all in black with pointy things on his head.

Well, really it was a sort of half-mask, half helmet. And, he did wonder why the man in the bright colors was wearing his briefs on the outside of his leotards…but before he could say 'boo' the brunette tied him up with a glowing rope, and the interrogation began.

Harry was a bit chuffed by this—after all, didn't one usually arrange a 'safe word' before beginning games like this? —but found out that the rope not only worked a bit like Veritiserum but also had a calming effect on his nerves. Harry'd answered all of their questions truthfully, as best he could, but been rather happy when he was released.

The next few minutes were a bit strange, even by Harry's standards. He'd been shown to a large room with a glass wall that looked down on the Earth (they were in a space station called, of all things, the Watchtower), offered refreshments (they'd not had pumpkin juice, but the tea and biscuits were quite good) and then offered membership in something called The League. The man in the primary-colored crime against fashion costume and the buxom (and very leggy, Harry finally had a chance to notice) brunette explained that the League was a group of extraordinary individuals who had banded together to fight crime, defend the Earth, etc., etc. Harry listened to their pitch, and then politely declined. They'd not been happy with his answer, but listened politely as he explained that he'd had quite enough of world-saving, thank you very much, and that he only wanted to go off somewhere and live a quiet life free of heroics, evildoers and world-class villains.

The nice lady (she'd been the nicest to him of all, and Harry was starting to like her despite the bit with the rope) smiled, mussed his hair, and told him that she understood. The undies on the outside man stood there looking disappointed, while the man in black just glared at him.

Harry started to tell Mr. Pointy Head that after seven years of Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall, his glaring was a poor and distant third, at best. However, Harry didn't want to seem rude, so he just grinned back.

That seemed to amuse Primary Colors Guy and Ms. Gorgeous no end, especially when the pointy-head man whirled and left the room. Really, he could learn a thing or two from Snape about the whole cape-swirly thing. Pity the greasy git had died several weeks earlier.

In short order Harry found himself escorted back to the 'teleport pad', where they were met by a hyperactive man in red with gold wings on his head. Really, what was it with these people and their outfits? Did they use the same tailor as Dumbledore? The man asked for Harry's autograph, gave him a wink and a 'thumbs up', and ran out of the room. As he stepped on the pad, the nice lady give him a small piece of plastic the size of a muggle business card and told him to press it if he ever changed his mind.

Harry barely had time to nod, much less tell her that he really didn't think he'd be changing his mind, before he found himself back at the gates of Hogwarts. With a shrug, he turned and began the walk back to the school. Maybe he'd skive off the whole afternoon, and really take that nap, after all.

* * *

Fortunately for Harry, he was able to take a wonderful nap, and then slip away to the Room of Requirement where they house elves plied him with shepherd's pie, mushy peas, treacle tart and ice cream—all his favorites—which he enjoyed in blissful peace and quiet. He spent the evening vigorously doing absolutely nothing, and only returned to Gryffindor tower right before curfew.

As expected, the Gruesome Twosome were waiting for him just inside the portrait hole. What they didn't expect, however, was for Harry to completely ignore them, walk directly up the stairs to the seventh-year dorm, and climb into bed, pulling the drapes closed behind him.

* * *

Unfortunately, Harry's meeting with those League people seemed to grant some kind of cosmic permission for every whacko outfit on the planet to come a'calling.

The next morning, there were two gentlemen waiting when Harry (preceded by an arguing Poo Patrol) came into the Great Hall for breakfast. The two seemed to communicate using some form of telepathy, or maybe Legilimency, because they looked at each other, shrugged in unison, and then one man stepped forward while the second stood there patiently.

Harry had time to notice that each man was wearing a very nice muggle suit before the first one introduced himself as Mr. Smythe, and proffered his business card. Harry took it and looked up, confused, never having heard of LexCorp before.

The man was quite polite as he briefly explained that LexCorp was a large multinational company that often hired "exceptionally talented people like you, Mr. Potter" for a variety of positions. When Harry tried to protest that he really didn't think he had any special skills, the man assured him that a corporation as diverse as LexCorp could always make use of someone with his magical abilities. The man went on to explain that yes, parts of LexCorp were aware of the wizarding world, so the Statutes of Secrecy would not be an obstacle to his employment, at what would be a very generous salary. As to what he would be doing, well, that would be determined later. Naturally, Harry would have a large say in making that determination, based on his interests as well as the needs of the company.

The man seemed to sense Harry's hesitation, smiled, gave him a very nice leather case (embossed with Harry's name and the LexCorp logo) and told him that should he be interested in discussing the matter further, there was more information in the case. LexCorp maintained offices in virtually every major city, including London, Cardiff, Birmingham, Glasgow and Edinburgh. All Harry had to do was contact the nearest office and ask for the 'Special Hires' office.

Harry thanked the man, shook his hand, and was immediately approached by the other man. This second man made Harry an identical offer, which Harry also declined. The only differences the second time around were that the company was WayneTech, a wholly-owned subsidiary of Wayne Industries, and the case was black rather than dark brown.

Since it was a Hogsmeade Saturday, Harry didn't really wonder about just how the two men had gotten into Hogwarts at breakfast time. He made his way to the Gryffindor table with his two cases, and tried to find a seat well away from his bookends. Sadly, the fates and his housemates (rotten sods) conspired against him.

He'd no sooner sat down before the Inquisition and Food Spraying began. Harry tried to ignore both as best he could, putting both cases under his feet to keep the egg and sausage bits and grabby hands away from them. He managed to acquire a slice of toast before Ron saw the tray, and was hunting around for jam when Hermione reached between his legs, going for his new cases.

"Excuse me, those are mine, and I'd prefer not to get breakfast all over them," Harry said, clamping his knees together tightly. He didn't have to look to know that the other Houses were watching and laughing, and that the jokes would be flying within seconds.

"Honestly, Harry!" Hermione gasped, pulling her hand back. "I only wanted to see what kind of recruiting materials you've been given. LexCorp and Wayne Industries are two of the largest muh wa muh wa muh wawa wa…." Harry tuned her out, gave up on the jam and began nibbling his dry toast.

Ron garbled something—Harry didn't listen, because the first salvo had landed a bit of egg squarely on his left lens—that could have been a jealous comment about Harry always getting the best offers, or a comment on the Cannon's latest defeat, or perhaps a question about the mating habits of polar bears in captivity. On further reflection, Harry realized that it probably wasn't the last bit, as that would have required Ron to actually be curious about something that might just possibly matter at some time in the future. Barring any other signs of the Apocalypse, that was highly unlikely.

Harry told himself he really didn't want another piece of toast. Ron had, like always, grabbed a handful, then let most of it slip through his fingers back onto the plate. Since Harry knew that Ron had a wank every morning and didn't wash his hands between that and coming down to breakfast, the mangled pieces of toast lying there just weren't terribly appealing.

He debated telling Hermione this as she picked through the pile for the less-mangled slices, but decided that if she hadn't learned about Ron by now, it was too late. His brain refused to listen to the little voice in his head telling him about certain rumors, and how she already….

Harry firmly told the little voice to shut up before he _Crucio'd_ it, and for once, the little voice did as it was told.

He retrieved his cases and left the table just as Hermione noticed her toast was a bit off. Hastily, he went back to the tower, stashed his new cases in his trunk and made sure his locking charms were in place. He'd found out from painful experience…and crumbs in his underthings…that Ron liked to 'borrow' whatever struck his fancy from Harry's trunk. He suspected this would be one of those times when Ron would be successful in getting Hermione to help him "check out Harry's trunk, because there might be a Dark thingy in there".

He added one more charm to the lock (a little zinger he'd found in the Black library), grabbed his overcloak (it was still quite chill out in the mornings) and made his way to Hogsmeade. He was almost trapped by Ginny on his way through the common room, but pretended not to hear her calling from the foot of the stairs. Since she'd only just awakened and was still in her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, she hadn't been able to chase him out the portrait hole.

He was one of the first people in Hogsmeade, and was looking forward to a lovely bit of alone time when a figure stepped out from the shadow of a building. Without thinking, Harry dropped into a fighting stance, his wand whipping into his hand from the sheath on his forearm.

"My word, Mr. Potter," the matronly woman said, taken aback. "I knew you had fast reflexes, but that was amazing!"

"Beg pardon, ma'am," Harry said, standing straight—he suppressed an internal sigh that he was the same height as the lady—but not putting his wand away. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"No, Mr. Potter, but I hope to change that," she said, smiling in a minimalistic yet friendly way. "You may call me 'M'. Is there a place we can talk in private?"

"Erm, yeah, uh…I mean, yes, ma'am, Mrs. Ehm," Harry said, confused and a bit deflated as his chances for a solitary morning melted away like the early morning mist. "I think the Three Broomsticks is open," he went on, remembering to offer the well-seasoned lady his arm.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Potter, that sounds lovely. And, it's just 'M', like the letter," she replied, taking his arm.

Harry led her to Madam Rosmerta's establishment, which was indeed open, and still serving breakfast. At M's urging, Harry ordered a full breakfast while she contented herself with tea and a muffin. She waved off Harry's offer to pay, smiled a bit wider, and told him that this was on her company account. "Because, you see, I've come to sign you up," she said, a genuinely pleasant look on her face.

While Harry enjoyed his breakfast (blissfully free of flying food bits and haranguing), M told Harry that she worked for a company called Universal Exports, which was a 'front' for Her Majesty's Secret Service, or MI6. 'Six' was not only aware of the wizarding world, she said, but employed a number of witches and wizards, mostly muggleborn, as well as a number of squibs in various capacities. They were well aware of his recent defeat of Tom Riddle, and he'd been targeted as a high-potential recruit.

M went on to apologize for not taking a more active role in dealing with the Dark Lord. "That idiot Fudge, then that fool Scrimgeour, refused to let us help!" Because of long-standing arrangements, Five and Six could only intervene in wizarding affairs at the request of the Minister for Magic. "I do intend to have those arrangements reexamined," M said, irritation in her eyes. "That, however, is none of your concern. Suffice it to say that your Country needs you, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed. He already felt guilty for letting M buy him breakfast, but invoking the Country? At least she didn't ask in the Queen's name.

"M, I'm sorry," Harry began. He told her how he felt, and that he really, really wanted just to be left alone, even though he appreciated her offer.

He must have looked sincere, because M just sighed, told him she understood, and then gave him a business card.

"If you change your mind, Mr. Potter…and I hope you do…contact us. But now, I must be off. I should warn you, though," she said as she stood. "My counterparts in other organizations will almost certainly want to speak with you as well. Before you accept a position with any of them, I'd appreciate if you gave me a change to make a counter-offer."

Harry assured M that he would do as she asked, and M took her leave. At the door, she bumped into an older gentleman just entering the Three Broomsticks. The two spoke together briefly like old friends, and M pointed out Harry's table before leaving. The older gent strolled over and put out his hand.

"Harry Potter? Lloyd Cramden, Z. O. W. I. E." he said, pumping Harry's hand vigorously.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.

"Z. O. W. I. E." Cramden repeated, taking the seat M had just vacated. "Zonal Organization for World Intelligence and Espionage," he explained. "Like what M does, only we're more global, see?"

"Oh." Harry said. He remember from primary school about the sun never setting on the British Empire, but….

"Oh, yeah," Cramden replied. "We cover the whole world, including the British parts. Sometimes we work together, help each other out, that kind of thing. Same side, different areas of responsibility."

"Oh." Harry said.

"Son, you know why I'm here," Cramden smiled, signaling Madam Rosmerta over with a wave. "Coffee, cream, two sugars, ma'am" he ordered, then turned back to Harry. "Look, son, I'll get right to the point. The world's a dangerous place, and we need men—good men, dangerous men, men like you—to protect it from other dangerous men who aren't so good. Like your boy Riddle. Bad seed, that one. Bad seed," he said shaking his head.

"Oh." Harry said.

"I knew you'd be quick on the uptake," Cramden beamed. "Now, I'll be the first to tell you that M's got herself a fine group of people, make no mistake. Still, I think I can offer you just as big a chance to do some good out there as she can. Men like us, Harry…I can call you Harry, can't I? ...we can't just sit around on our laurels. We get bored, then we get antsy, and then…well, I don't have to tell you what happens, do I?"

"Oh." Harry said.

"Exactly," Cramden said, taking his coffee and sipping it carefully. "Mmm, good coffee. Now, I know that M has a slot waiting for you. Well, Harry, so do I. Just say the word, and the day you leave that school of yours, you can step into a job with Z.O.W.I.E. Training's a bit harsh, but nothing you can't handle. After that, I can guarantee you'll be one of my go-to men for problems other agents can't handle. So, whatdaya say?" He leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face.

"Oh." Harry said. Then, after a minute, "can I think about it?"

"Sure, sure! Young man like you, whole life ahead of him, offers around every corner, world's your oyster! Take all the time you want," Cramden pulled out a business card. "Just one thing: before you sign on with M, call me. Anything she puts on the plate, I'll put a second helping on it. Stay in touch." Smiling, he rose and left the way he had come.

Harry carefully put both cards inside his money pouch. Maybe he could start putting them in one of his new cases.

* * *

Harry wound up sitting at that same table until early evening. A steady stream of people came and went, bought him food, offered him jobs, gave him business cards, and then left.

Agent Colson was very nice, in a quiet kind of way. He apologized that Director Fury couldn't be there himself, but did ask that Harry give S.H.I.E.L.D. the same consideration he gave MI6 and Z.O.W.I.E., which Harry agreed to do. The two briefly discussed a new initiative Director Fury was putting together, but Harry got the distinct impression that what he wasn't being told was more important than the bare-bones outline Mr. Colson gave. The Men in Black were nice, but a bit cool and aloof. The chubby man who introduced himself as 'Toyman' from something called the Legion of Doom was more than a bit creepy, and left Harry feeling slightly dirty and in need of a wash. Mr. Lehnsherr was a nice older gentleman who explained that he usually only recruited mutants, but was willing to make an exception in Harry's case. He and the man that followed him, a Professor Xavier from America, said the same thing, and the two of them talked briefly as they passed. Harry could feel the tension between them, but didn't know why they weren't as friendly as Mr. Cramden and M had been. The disembodied brain and gorilla with the French accent were just weird, and the man in the gray Mao suit from SPECTRE…well, Harry scratched his cat, apologized and told him he'd rather work for the Light. The man nodded and left shortly thereafter, a disappointed look on his face.

Harry spent almost two hours that afternoon doing nothing but turning down one strange person after another, all of whom wanted to give him differently colored rings.

Rage? Well, he did have a number of things to be angry about—most of them involving his former Headmaster in some way or another—but he was really trying to work through them and move on with his life. So, no Red, sorry.

Between the Potter and Black vaults, he had more than enough gold, thank you very much. He really didn't need any more _stuff_, what he needed was to be left alone for the rest of his life. Besides, Orange reminded him of Halloween, and he didn't have the best track record with that particular holiday.

With Voldemort gone, he really didn't think he had much to be afraid of…except, of course, the Ministry and whatever stupid thing they would dream up next week to make his life more difficult than it had to be. Besides, Yellow was such a Hufflepuff color.

Willpower? Well, he supposed he had that, and the Green really would bring out his eyes. Still, it sounded too much like being an Auror on a grand scale, so he really wasn't interested. Thank you for offering, though.

By this time, the only thing Harry was hoping for was that eventually he'd be left alone; ideally, forgotten by the Universe at large. The…person…making that particular offer, a Mr. Walker, if Harry remembered his introduction correctly, smiled at Harry's refusal, nodded, and politely left with a cryptic parting statement that Harry promptly forgot.

Harry did hope that he had some compassion left in him, despite a parade of people, starting with the Dursleys and continuing on for many years, doing their level best to beat it out of him. And, the Staff was a nice touch. However, Harry really wasn't ready to leave England, and what the lady described sounded a bit too much like joining a monastery. No Indigo for Harry.

The woman with the pink hair (and skin, and glowing aura) reminded him of Tonks, only graceful and not prone to tripping and falling. He really wasn't sure that he knew what Love was, not having had any experience with it, and he _really_ didn't want to give up his man bits! Sapphire was indeed a lovely color, but not for Harry Potter!

Creepiest of all was Harry's last visitor for the day. The tall man was dressed all in Black, and laid the Gaunt Ring—Stone intact—and Elder Wand down in front of Harry. "I have nothing to offer you, Harry Potter," the man said. "You are their Master now. Guard these, and the Cloak, against those who would use them foolishly. We shall not meet again." Then he left, to Harry's profound relief.

The next day's _Daily Prophet_ ran the headline "**Harry Potter fends off Alien Invasion!**", with pictures by Colin Creevy, who'd been sitting outside the Three Broomsticks with his camera waiting for Harry to come out. Fortunately, Harry had long since given up reading the rag, so he never saw it. He did notice the stares he got for the next few days, but since they were just like all the other stares he'd been getting, he ignored them, too.

When it came out later that week, Harry got rather a nice chuckle out of _The Quibbler's_ "**Harry Potter's Space Harem: The Inside Story**" headline. Unfortunately, people kept taking his copy away faster than he could read the article, so he finally gave it up as a lost cause and went back to reading Twilight fan fiction.

He'd decided he was Team Jacob, 'cause sparklypires were just _wrong_. Besides, Edward reminded him of Cedric for some reason, and that was both squicky and sad in equal measure.

Quentin Travers was a snotty, stuck-up, self-absorbed twit who irritated Harry from the moment they met. It didn't help that Travers assumed Harry would fall all over himself in his eagerness to join the Watcher's Council. Travers couldn't fail to notice the snickers that followed him out of the Three Broomsticks, but he never noticed the sign on his back that alternated between 'Kick Me' and 'I'm a Dick'.

Lesson for the Day: Never piss off, then turn your back on, a Son of the Marauders and friend to the Weasley Twins.

Harry really enjoyed his evening meal. A lovely lady named Martha Jones and a dashing Captain "call me Jack, Harry" Harkness had split the cost of the meal for all of them, then tried to recruit him for either U.N.I.T. (Martha) or Torchwood (Captain Jack). As best Harry could tell, they both dealt with weird things including the paranormal and alien invasions (after the Ring people, Harry could see the need for it), as well as working with someone called The Doctor on a semi-regular basis. Both seemed genuinely interested in having Harry available, at least on a consulting basis. Harry told them he'd think about it, and if they absolutely couldn't get anyone else, to contact him. They'd thanked him, given him cards (Captain Jack's had his personal number penned on the back), and left right after they finished dessert. As they were going, Martha smiled at him while Jack was holding her coat. "We've had our people keeping your 'friends' away all day," she said, clearly not happy with said friends. "Don't let them give you any grief, Harry. You deserve much better."

"What she said, kiddo," Jack agreed. "First thing, you come visit either of us, we'll see about introducing you to some people who'll appreciate you for _you_, not as a project or a stepping stone. Seriously, I saw them outside, Harry; you really need to trade up."

Harry nodded, a small part of him feeling like he should be insulted at how they were talking about Ron, Hermione and Ginny—he'd seen the three peaking in the front windows all day—but mostly he knew they were telling the truth. He accepted their offer to walk back to the gates of Hogwarts with him, and used Captain Jack and Martha as shields until he was there. He got hugs from both Martha and Captain Jack, and was actually feeling rather good, in a confused hormonal sort of way, all the way back to Gryffindor tower.

He noticed there was a scorch mark on the floor in front of his trunk, and made a mental note to check and see who had no eyebrows the next morning. Putting away his things and resetting the spells on his trunk, he brushed his teeth and went to bed.

That night, he dreamed of being a super-secret intergalactic agent who had to choose between saving Ron, Hermione and Ginny from certain death, or saving an entire planet from inevitable doom.

Just before he woke up, the planet's rulers, Queen Martha and her consort Prince Jack, proclaimed Harry Potter day, and he got to ride on a float in the first Harry Potter Day parade.

It was the most excellent dream _ever_.

* * *

"Potter, you'll come with me."

Harry looked up from his dry toast—breakfast had rapidly shaped up to be a repeat of the previous day, only without the polite men and nice cases—to see Auror Dawlish looming over him.

"Sir?" Harry asked, guarding his toast. Ron's plate was beginning to show through the piled food carnage, so Harry wasn't taking any chances with it. He'd managed to have a bit of peace thus far, but only by pointedly looking at where Hermione's, Ginny's and Ron's eyebrows were _not_.

"I said, come with me, Potter. Now!" Dawlish growled. He didn't look happy. Then again, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen the man when he WAS happy.

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed, putting down his toast, knowing it would vanish in short order. Maybe he could get a house elf to bring him a piece of bacon later….

"I said _now_, Potter!" Dawlish barked, grabbing Harry's arm roughly and pulling him along. Well accustomed to worse from the Dursleys, Harry made no sound but tried to move faster.

"Can I ask where we're going, sir?" Harry asked. He didn't think he'd done anything, but maybe the Ministry objected to his meeting with all those people yesterday.

"Minister wants to see you, boy," Dawlish said, then went mute until they came to one of the meeting rooms just off the Great Hall. "In you go, and mind your manners," Dawlish said, opening the door and giving Harry a shove.

Harry stumbled into the room, somehow managing not to fall. He'd just steadied himself and was straightening his robes when Minister Scrimgeour was there, booming at him.

"Harry Potter! I must say, you're a hard man to get a meeting with," Scrimgeour boomed. "Just what were those muggles selling you yesterday, boy? Some of them not even the Unspeakables recognized, which is a rare thing, believe me." The Minister didn't wait for an answer before he took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs used for important visitors to the school.

"Doesn't matter, though; they all offered you a job and you turned them all down. Good lad!" The Minister waved Harry toward a chair. "You'll be joining the Ministry on the Auror track, of course," he went on. "Only thing for you to do. Imagine, the Boy Who Won, working with muggles!" He laughed at the absurdity of the thought. "The next Auror class won't start until the first of August—we give the new graduates some time to have a bit of vacation, see their families, that sort of thing—but I want you in the Ministry no more than one week after you graduate, understand? Oh, you'll be on the payroll; can't expect you to work for free, after all. No, I want you there so you can get a head start on meeting the people you'll be working with, get settled in, that kind of thing. We expect great things from you, Potter, great things."

Harry took a deep breath and braced himself. "Erm, thanks, Minister, but I really…."

"Don't thank me, boy, it's I who should be thanking you! Me, and every other wizard in Britain. You saved our world, Potter, don't think we don't know it." Scrimgeour leaned forward and lowered his voice approximately one decibel. "I wasn't going to tell you this, but I've heard you don't like surprises, so here it is: I'm going to give you the Order of Merlin, First Class, just as soon as we can arrange the press conference there in the Ministry. That'll be when we announce that you're entering the Auror program, so there's no doubt it'll make the front page of the _Prophet_. Do the public's morale a world of good, too; knowing their Savior will always be there, ready to take down the next Dark Lord that comes along. They always do, you know," Scrimgeour leaned back and stroked his beard. "Every few decades some sodding blackguard comes along, thinks that just because he's dabbled in the Dark Arts he can lord it over the rest of us. Well let me tell you! Not on my watch, they won't! Not when I've got Harry bloody Potter to throw at 'em!" Scrimgeour smiled broadly, thoroughly pleased with himself and the future he had all planned out.

"Minister, I won't…." Harry tried, but was interrupted once again.

"Of course you won't be alone, Potter," Scrimgeour waved his hand dismissively. "Have the entire Auror corps behind you, the full weight and authority of the Ministry, with all its resources backing you up. Not like this last time, not at all," Scrimgeour snorted. "Bloody Dumbledore could have handled the entire mess differently, but he always was one for his plots and plans. Never understood it, myself; always tried to take the direct route if I could."

"I'm not going to be an Auror," Harry said loudly. He really was getting tired of this….

"What's that? Not going to be an Auror? Ridiculous! Of course you're going to be an Auror. What else would you do?" Scrimgeour was shocked, and a bit angry, at Harry's announcement.

"For starters, I'm going to take a nice long vacation somewhere far away from Britain," Harry said, pressing on despite the look on Scrimgeour's face. "Then, I think I'll get myself a nice little cottage, maybe on the coast, where I can have a garden and take long walks without being bothered by anyone."

Scrimgeour sputtered for several long moments, then recovered. "Nonsense, Potter. We need you in the Ministry! Public confidence is shoot, and the people need reassuring. We can't have you just disappearing from the public eye, the wizard in the street won't stand for it!"

Harry shrugged. "They'll manage, I'm sure. Just run another article in the _Prophet_ about how I'm insane, and they'll be more than happy for me to go away. That's how it's always worked before."

"That was different, Potter, and you know it. Now…." Scrimgeour began, but this time Harry was ready for him.

"How, Minister? How is 'now' different from 'then'? Is it just that Voldemort is dead and everyone knows it, or is it something else?"

"It's because Voldemort's finally dead, and everyone knows that you did it, as you very well know. Don't play stupid with me, Potter," the Minister growled.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not playing anything, Minister. I killed Voldemort because it was him or me, not to save the wizarding world, or your precious Ministry," Harry sneered, his anger rising. "Now, I'm going to tell you what I told everyone yesterday—who, by the way, made some really good offers, much better than anything the Ministry could ever offer me—_no_. I don't want your job. I don't want to always be saving your worthless hides. The next time a so-called Dark Lord comes calling, why not let the Aurors do their jobs and handle it? Oh, I forgot; most of them are like Dawlish, who couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel." Harry was standing (he didn't remember getting to his feet) and his magic was swirling around him. "I've done what I had to do, what that bloody prophecy said I had to do, and I'm done, do you hear me? Done!" He spun and strode to the door, which opened of its own accord. "Oh, and Minister," Harry said over his shoulder, "don't call me. I won't be calling you."

Giving Dawlish a glare that made the Auror step back, stunned, Harry Potter walked out on the Minister for Magic.

**A/N:** Harry's had multiple offers, and has turned them all down. But, isn't this fic about an _Unrefusable_ Offer? What kind of offer could possibly top the ones Harry's already declined, or put off, or said he'd think about (he lied)? More importantly, who could make such an offer? What could that offer possibly be?

I guess you'll have to read the next chapter to find out. While you're waiting, please see my newly-updated profile for an important announcement.

**Next:** The Offer, and the Offer-ers. Review, or I'll send Toyman to 'recruit' _you_!


	2. INTERMISSION and CHALLENGE

**Here's The Deal:** You notice somebody or some group that you think should make Harry an offer but I didn't include? Fine. YOU get to write the omake to fix it!

Congratulations! You just VOLUNTEERED! You write it, I'll post it!

It doesn't have to be long, or complicated. Short, sweet, pithy, that's the ticket! Pick a person or three who is representative/iconic of that group, have them briefly describe 'the deal' to Harry, who then turns them down, so sorry.

It can either be 'that Saturday in the Three Broomsticks', or after that. If it's after, then the other people—who make THE offer for which the fic is named—can be involved, or not (your choice). You'll find out tomorrow, when the next and final chapter goes up.

Short, sweet, pithy—that's the ticket! If you spend more than 10 minutes on it, you're taking too long. So, no whining about 'I've got too much to do'…actually, NO whining AT ALL! You open the can of worms, you get to enjoy the worms...yummy, yummy worms! Remember, you VOLUNTEERED!

Think of it as a speed drabble challenge. Gee, my very first challenge! Ooooh, I feel all tingly!

Yes, I'm Evil. In fact, I'm SO EVIL that BOTH Loki and Voldemort want to be ME when they grow up! Lex Luthor and Victor Von Doom have me on speed-dial! Most Evil of all, Hades keeps bugging me to friend him on Facebook, and I keep tormenting him by saying 'no'.

FYI, Dr. Doom didn't recruit Harry because Dr. Doom doesn't need ANYBODY. Hades figured that the Guy in Black had it covered. Also, to Anonymous, who wanted an Avatar recruitment-see above.


	3. Chapter 3

_Harry shook his head. "I'm not playing anything, Minister. I killed Voldemort because it was him or me, not to save the wizarding world, or your precious Ministry," Harry sneered, his anger rising. "Now, I'm going to tell you what I told everyone yesterday—who, by the way, made some really good offers, much better than anything the Ministry could ever offer me—no. I don't want your job. I don't want to always be saving your worthless hides. The next time a so-called Dark Lord comes calling, why not let the Aurors do their jobs and handle it? Oh, I forgot; most of them are like Dawlish, who couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel." Harry was standing (he didn't remember getting to his feet) and his magic was swirling around him. "I've done what I had to do, what that bloody prophecy said I had to do, and I'm done, do you hear me? Done!" He spun and strode to the door, which opened of its own accord. "Oh, and Minister," Harry said over his shoulder, "don't call me. I won't be calling you."_

_ Giving Dawlish a glare that made the Auror step back, stunned, Harry Potter walked out on the Minister for Magic._

* * *

Harry had been walking for several minutes, and was just starting to calm down when he was grabbed from behind and muscled into an empty classroom.

He was vaguely aware of the classroom door slamming shut when he elbowed his attacker in the stomach and spun away, wand at the ready and a particularly nasty hex on his lips.

"Easy, Potter! We're not going to attack you," Daphne Greengrass barked.

Harry froze, a quick glance taking in all the possible threats before him. Daphne was standing right in front of him, hands raised to show them empty. On either side of her, Pansy Parkinson, Tracey Davis, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were gathered, Blaise bent double and Pansy and Draco hovering over him, concerned.

Waving off the other two Slytherins, Blaise straightened, a pained look on his face. "Good one, Potter," he gasped. "We'll call it even for my dragging you in here." "Serves you right," Harry growled. Then, noticing the look on the other faces in the room, he realized that his magic was swirling around him, and took a deep breath to help reign it in before something bad happened.

"Merlin!" Pansy gasped. "Did you feel that?" she asked no one in particular.

Draco's smirk seemed different somehow to Harry, almost…proud? "I _told_ you he was powerful. Now maybe you'll believe me, Pansy darling."

Pansy snorted and spared Draco a glance before her eyes turned back to Harry. "I knew he was powerful, but not _that_ powerful," she said. "Did you see his eyes?"

"Glowed like an AK," Tracey breathed.

"No, like burning emeralds," Daphne corrected. She was still holding her hands up, but the way she was looking at Harry was beginning to make him feel decidedly uncomfortable. He'd seen Ron look at a pile of chops that very same way….

"Standing right here," Harry said, wanting to do something before…he wasn't sure what, but it probably wouldn't be good…happened. "Is someone going to tell me why you lot felt the need to drag me in here and seal the door, or will I have to start guessing?"

The Slytherins looked back and forth, communing in some way that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. Then, before he could decide which one to hex first, Daphne looked back at him and smiled.

"Potter, if you'll let me take out my wand, I'll give you my oath that I mean you no harm."

Harry thought for a second, then gave a single jerk with his head. "Only you," he said flatly. "Anybody else goes for a wand, I start hexing."

"Fair enough." Daphne nodded, then slowly—careful to let him see what she was doing—removed her wand from her own forearm holster. Pointing it at the ceiling, she spoke clearly. "I, Daphne Ophelia Greengrass, swear on my magic that I mean no harm to Harry James Potter, and that while we are in this room I will defend him against all enemies until such time as we have completed our discussion. So Mote It Be." Her wand glowed, and Harry felt a pulse as the oath formed. "So…talk," Harry said, his eyes still sweeping back and forth. He did point his wand down a bit, but didn't relax. He'd noted how very precise and Slytherin Daphne's oath had been, and wasn't going to take any chances with the 'completed our discussion' bit.

A collective sigh came from the Slytherins. Then, Tracey stepped forward. "Potter…and that's just not going to work for me! Can we _please_ use our first names?" she asked, both irritated and imploring. "Harry, call me Tracey; this is Daphne, Pansy, Draco and Blaise." She waved her hands by way of introduction.

"I know who you are," Harry growled. "I'm still waiting to hear just why I'm here."

"Potter…Harry," Blaise said. He'd apparently recovered from Harry's blow (Harry made a mental note to hit harder next time), and he smiled tightly. "We only want to talk. If you insist, we'll all give the same oath as Daphne."

"I'll settle for your word that you won't attack me, so long as no wands come out."

Harry was pleased to see that all of the Slytherins nodded, and Daphne made a minor show of putting her wand away. When she finished, she looked at him—they were the same height—and smiled.

"There. Happy now?"

Harry gave another jerky nod of his head. "I'm still waiting for an explanation."

Once again there was that brief period of intense silent communication, and then Daphne shrugged. Apparently, she'd just been volunteered to speak for the group.

"First of all, Harry, we want to thank you for killing the Dark Lord. No, please, let me finish," she said, cutting Harry off before he could say something biting. "None of us wanted to be bound to that maniac, despite the charade we've all had to act out these last few months…."

"Years," Draco muttered, then went silent as the others glared at him.

"As I was saying," Daphne said, a bit forcefully, then visibly made herself relax. "None of us wanted to have anything to do with the Dark Lord, but our families and Housemates left us no choice. Now that he's well and truly dead…."

"And good riddance to bad rubbish," Draco muttered once more. Then, "all right, all right! I just want Potter to know that we all feel grateful to him." Turning to speak directly to Harry, Draco went on, his voice almost…friendly? It took a moment for Harry to focus on what he was saying through the shock.

"Po…Harry. Some day, I'd like to sit down with you over a couple of strong drinks and tell you just how bad it really was. From what our parents have told us, when he was just starting out, the Dark Lord was handsome, powerful, charismatic…all the things that make people follow a leader. Then, he changed. By the time our families realized just how far gone he was, they were in too deep to back out. The Dark Lord didn't accept resignations from the Death Eaters gracefully," the Malfoy scion grimaced. "You're aware of Regulus Black, I trust. He was tortured slowly, over several days, before he was finally allowed to die, as an example for others."

Draco paused, and Harry winced at the image he'd just conjured. Taking a deep breath, Draco went on. "Apparently, he either didn't read the part of the book where is says to never, _ever_ make more than one horcrux, or he just ignored it. Regardless…."

"Regardless, even making one of the damned things means that you have to kill an innocent in cold blood!" Harry spat. "That's one too many, in my book!"

Draco shook his head. "That's not completely accurate, Po…Harry, but I won't argue about that now. It's actually possible to create a type of horcrux—a phylactery—without committing murder. By all accounts it's a terribly long and involved process, and horribly painful, and you wind up a Lich, which is a most unattractive way to spend eternity, but…."

Pansy dropped her hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. "Draco, darling. Babbling."

Draco caught himself, looked abashed for a fraction of a second, then shrugged. A tiny smile played across his lips, and Harry found himself suddenly reminded of Hermione. The old Hermione, from before she'd started working on a NEWT in Nagging. The sensation made him want to giggle and sigh at the same time. Oh, how he missed his friends and the way they used to be….

"At any rate, nobody told the Dark Lord that splitting your soul into pieces-parts was a one-way ticket on the Hogwarts Express to Crazytown," Draco shrugged again, and the other Slytherins grinned at his turn of phrase. "I was punished for not making friends with you on the train, you know," he went on, quietly. "Then again, every year, you managed to do something to anger my father, and he took it out on me. I just want you to know that he made me do most of what I did to you, and I'm sorry for that."

"Most?" Harry raised one eyebrow. He'd been practicing in the mirror, and was getting rather good at it.

Draco's face lit up with a friendly smirk. "Well, some of it I did because you were a great thumping prat."

"You ought to know," Harry shot back, then let himself laugh out loud. "If there's ever a Prat Handbook put out, I'll expect that you'll have written a chapter or two."

"Just two? Try _most_," Draco laughed with Harry, and the whole room relaxed. "And I'll be sure to dedicate it to you, Harry," he said.

"I'll do the same to you with my chapters," Harry agreed. "Apology accepted. And, you're all welcome, for what it's worth." He lowered his wand, putting it away without thinking about it. "It's not like I had a lot of choice in the matter," he said, sighing. As it tended to do the last several months, his good mood evaporated in an instant.

"We're not done here, Harry!" Daphne said firmly. "You haven't even heard our offer yet." She must have seen the confusion on Harry's face—well, really, unless she'd been blind, she couldn't have missed it—and so, pressed on. "Yes, Harry; we, the Slytherin Cabal, wish to induct you into our inner circle. We're tired of the way things have been done, so we've decided to turn the wizarding world on its head. For that, we need you, Harry Potter!"

In Harry's defense, the incoherent sounds he began making were due to the extreme shock he'd just been given.

Daphne moved into Harry's personal space and gently put her hands on his chest. "Harry, just shush for a minute and let me talk." At Harry's slow nod, she gave him a radiant smile.

"Harry, unless things radically change, our world is doomed. You know it, Dumbledore knew it, we know it; hellfire and brimstone, most of the Ministry knows it! Otherwise sensible purebloods interbreed themselves in ways they'd never allow in their livestock, and the consequences have been showing up for at least the last hundred years. We can't afford to loose a single drop of magical blood, but between the Dark Lunatic and the Ministry's bigoted, idiotic policies running the muggle born back to their parent's world, we've reached the point where magical Britain can't sustain itself." She shook her head, frustrated, then continued. "The situation's not much better across Europe. That's one of the reasons the Americas have come to dominate the ICW."

"That, and the Asiatic countries don't have much use for the ICW. They prefer to keep things local, as it were," Blaise put in.

Daphne tossed a look over her shoulder at Blaise, then turned back to a thoughtful Harry. "I don't want my children to be born into a dying world, Harry, or have some terrible birth defect because I married my first cousin. None of us do."

"I…I don't know what I can do," Harry stammered. "I'm…."

"Oh, shut it, Potter!" Tracey snapped, then looked ashamed. "I'm sorry…Harry," she said, softly. "Right now, I don't think there's much you _can't_ do, if you set your mind to it."

Harry's reply was cut off by Daphne's finger on his lips. "Shh. Listen first. We're going to change our world for the better, and you're going to help us do it. You see, Mr. Potter," she smiled up at him impishly, "We're going to make you an offer you can't possibly refuse."

Harry sat back, stunned. He'd done as Daphne suggested and conjured comfortable couches and chairs for them all. He'd gone to take a chair, but somehow he'd wound up on a couch with Daphne beside him. A call to Dobby brought a tray with tea, pumpkin juice (Blaise had turned up his nose at it: "Merlin, I _hate_ that stuff!) and assorted pastries, then the conversation began in earnest.

The five Slytherins in the room were the _de facto_ leaders of the Snake House; that much Harry had already known. That they were planning to overthrow the Ministry and take control of the Wizengamot within the next ten to fifteen years, he had _not_. And, the more he listened to them; the more he had to admit it actually sounded workable. Risky, difficult and at times tedious, yes; impossible, no.

He thought he'd reached his 'strangeness limit' for the day when Daphne casually turned to him and casually said, "Oh, and we'll have to have at least three boys. You need heirs for the Potter and Black lines, and I need one for Greengrass. That way, my sister Astoria doesn't have to carry the pressure of continuing the line. Aside from that, I want a daughter or two, but I'd really not be another Weasley family." Her smilingly neutral face was a stark contrast to one suddenly panicking Harry J. Potter.

"Chh…chh…wh…_we_?" Harry managed to choke out.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that you'll be marrying me sometime next spring, Harry? I'm sorry. That's what I get for carrying on for so long without my notes," Daphne grinned.

"Muh…wuh…marr…uuh," Harry stammered. His body seemed frozen in place, but the little voice in his head was running around his skull, screaming in panic.

"Daph, I think you broke him," Tracey giggled, Pansy, Draco and Blaise looking on in amusement.

Daphne leaned closer, patted him on the leg ('WAY too high up! the little voice screeched) and breathed in his ear. "Relax, Harry. I promise, once you get used to the idea, you'll see it's a perfectly logical solution to some of our problems."

"Pro…problems?" Somehow, Harry managed to produce a coherent word.

"Problems, Harry," Daphne leaned back just a bit, and brought the hand that wasn't on Harry's thigh up to play with his hair. "Next week, a marriage bill will be brought before the Wizengamot. In a nutshell, it will compel every unmarried witch and wizard in Britain under the age of 50 to marry within one year, or face having a 'suitable partner' selected for them by the Ministry. There are provisions in the bill for compulsory fertility potions during the first three months of marriage, and huge tax penalties if two purebloods marry. There's also a clause to force any couples who are still infertile after one year to divorce and remarry different people, or use surrogates to 'protect their precious magical blood lines'."

"That's monstrous!" Harry gasped. Between Daphne's hand on his thigh and the one in his hair, he was finding it a bit difficult to concentrate. "But…Ginny…" he went on weakly.

"Oh, you mean the Weaselette? The one who's been slipping love potions into your pumpkin juice for the last two years? That Ginny?" Pansy asked easily. A tiny portion of Harry's brain noticed that Draco and Blaise were suddenly very interested in the dust motes on the ceiling.

"Wha…love potions?" Harry asked, now thoroughly confused as the three Slytherin girls closed in on him.

"Yes, Harry, love potions. At least some of the money Dumbledore gave Molly Weasley over the years…."

"Money that we suspect, but can't prove, came from the Potter family vaults," Tracey interrupted Daphne. "Until and unless we can get more cooperation out of the Goblins, or you demand an audit, we can't go any further."

Harry, reeling under the shock from what he was hearing, only nodded, then leaned back into Daphne's caressing fingers. Oh, Merlin, that felt good!

Daphne smiled as she noticed Harry's reaction. "I know it's a lot, but you need to hear the rest," she soothed. "Based on what we know about the Weasley family, and assuming that all of their children since Charlie have been on full scholarships here, we think that somewhere between two and three thousand galleons a year have found their way into the Weasley vault. Also, Molly Weasley took a NEWT in Potions, and has bragged on more than one occasion that she used a love potion to snare Arthur."

"She buys frozen Ashwinder eggs several times a year, and has for as long as anyone can remember," Pansy said softly. "I rather doubt she's treating that many cases of ague."

"We think it's likely that Dumbledore arranged for you to meet Molly and her brood just outside Platform 9 ¾ our first year. People who saw her said that she was acting strangely, for someone as familiar with the Platform as she was." Tracey's face was twisted in a moue of distaste.

Harry shook his head. He'd already been told "we're _Slytherins_, our sources are _everywhere_," so he didn't question where the information had come from. That the woman who'd been as close to a mother as he'd ever had, had been on Dumbledore's payroll, part of the scheming old coot's manipulations of one Harry J. Potter, tore a great, gaping hole somewhere inside of him.

Daphne noticed immediately. "Harry, I'll take Veritiserum or swear another oath, if that's what it takes to convince you we're not lying about this."

Tracey and Pansy nodded their agreement, but Harry shook his head. "No," he sighed. "You're telling me the truth. Or, the truth as you perceive it," he amended. He missed the glances the three girls shared as he let slip one of his best-kept secrets. Having a sense for when people were lying to him had been incredibly useful since his third year when it began to manifest. It was one of the reasons he and Dumbledore hadn't gotten along as well as the Headmaster had wanted these last few years.

Daphne moved her hand from his thigh to turn his head to face her. "Harry, look at me," she commanded. When their eyes met, she spoke to him like they were the only two people in the room. "I know this is painful for you, but you need to know. Any woman who uses a love potion to ensnare a man doesn't deserve that man; it's a frank admission of her own shortcomings both as a woman and a person. You also need to know there are other people who want to be there for you, like the Weasleys should have been, but weren't."

"You mean, as something other than just a weapon, or a sperm donor?" Harry bit out. He just wanted to be out of here so he could get on his Firebolt and fly away, and never, ever land….

The slap to his face took him completely by surprise.

"Stop it! Just…stop!" Daphne hissed. "Despite what other people have done, you are NOT 'just' anything! Do you think I would settle for 'just' to be the father of my children?"

Harry was too shocked to do more than stare at the suddenly furious witch.

"Potter, I swear to Merlin, if it takes me a hundred years I will break you of thinking that little of yourself! You are powerful, and gorgeous, and despite everything that's been done to you, you're one of the most decent, gentle, kindest men on the planet! The next time I hear you even thinking that pile of dragon dung, I will hex you until…until…." Daphne fumed, unable to come up with a suitable metaphor.

"Well, you can't hex him so hard his children would feel it, because they'll be your kids, too," Pansy snickered.

"Not helping, Pans," Daphne speared her friend with a look.

"Harry…what Daphne is trying to say, in her own delicate and loving way," Tracey smiled, catching Harry's eye, "is that you don't have settle for that kind of thing any more. We fully intend to be your new support group, and unlike some, we're doing it for all our sakes, not just the money or some theoretical 'Greater Good'." Tracey spat the last two words like they tasted vile. "If you'll have us, that is," she finished, a bit lamely.

Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall back into Daphne's hand. It was all just too much to take in at once. Why couldn't they just let him be? Why couldn't….

A soft voice breathed into his ear. "Sleep, Harry. I'll be here when you wake up."

A gentle wave of magic washed over Harry, and he dropped into sleep.

* * *

Harry drifted awake slowly. He lay there for a second, enjoying the sensation of being relaxed and rested, then slowly opened his eyes.

To his surprise, he didn't panic when he saw Daphne Greengrass sitting in a chair beside him, reading through a sheaf of parchments. Hearing him stir, she looked up at him and smiled. Her smile was beautiful, Harry thought. He wondered why he'd never noticed it before.

"Have a nice nap?" Daphne asked. When Harry nodded, she put down the parchments she was holding and stood up. "Budge over, cabbage," she said, using her knee to shove him over until she could sit beside him. When she was comfortable she leaned back against the arm of the couch and waited for him to say something.

"Why?" Harry asked after several long moments.

Daphne raised her eyebrows questioningly, but said nothing.

"Why…all this?" Harry explained. "Why…tell me all this, say you're going to be there for me, ask me to help you, marry…." He paused, then continued. "Why have me father your children?" he asked.

Daphne noticed that he hadn't stuttered on his last question. "I didn't say you were just going to father my children, Harry. I said I was going to marry you, and only then have children with you." Her half-smirk, half-smile was strangely attractive, Harry thought.

"Do I have any say about it?" he asked quietly. Whatever he expected her to say, he didn't expect her to burst out laughing.

"I hope you'll say 'I do'," she said brightly. Then, she kissed him.

Some time later, Harry found himself lying back against Daphne's body while her hand did evil, soothing things to his scalp.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Daphne," he began, only to stop when Daphne growled.

"Think very carefully about your next words, Potter," she said, her fingers freezing in place.

"I mean…but I…I'm incredibly flattered, you're one of the most beautiful witches I know, okay, but…why me?" he managed to get out.

"I'm not 'one of' anything, Mr. Potter; I am THE most beautiful witch you know, and don't you forget it," she said, giving his scalp a quick scratch for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry immediately answered.

"Good. Now that that's settled," Daphne went on, laughter in her voice. "Since you obviously haven't been listening, it's because there's no better wizard in Britain to give me healthy, magically strong children. Your father, for all his faults and foibles, made an absolutely brilliant move when he married your mother. And, marrying muggle borns is something of a Potter family tradition. As far back as any of the family genealogies go, every generation or three the Potter heir has married outside of the pureblood community. That's why your line is as strong as it is, relative to, oh, say, the Weasleys or the Prewetts."

"So…because I had good ancestors?" Harry asked neutrally.

Daphne smacked him lightly on the head. "There you go again, thinking only the worst about yourself. What have I told you about that?"

"That it'd take you a hundred years to make me stop?" Harry grinned up at her.

"Cheeky git," Daphne chuckled, then smacked him again, for good measure. Harry barely felt the tap, so he just shifted a bit to make himself more comfortable…and also so that he could take some of his weight off Daphne and onto his own elbows.

"See, Harry, that's what I'm talking about," Daphne sighed. "I was perfectly fine with you lying on me like you were, and now you're squirming around to try and 'protect' me from being crushed by your horrible weight." She leaned down so that her breath would blow into Harry's ear when she spoke. "I'm not like them, Harry. I'll tell you when I'm comfortable, and when I'm not. You'll never have to wonder just exactly where you stand with me."

Harry lay there for several minutes, thinking about what he'd learned that day. Then, finally, "I'd like to date you, before I agree to marry you," he said softly.

"Well, I would hope so! What kind of girl do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that," Daphne giggled again. "By now, you're probably wondering why it's me, and not Pansy or Tracey, lying here discussing our upcoming nuptials."

Harry shrugged and said nothing.

"We drew straws, and I got the short one," Daphne said seriously.

"Liar," Harry said, then felt himself relax when he received a soft pat to the head.

"See, I knew it! You've got an empathic sense, don't you? Oh, Draco and Pansy are _so_ going to owe me a sack of galleons! Remind me to do something nice for you some day, Potter."

"So, I'm just a wager? Is that it?" Harry asked in a small voice. He received another smack to his head for his statement.

"If I was forced to take Veritiserum, I might have to admit that I find you just a teensy bit attractive, too," Daphne went on serenely. "Just a bit…in a smoking hot, oh Merlin what an arse, let me ride him like a broomstick kind of way," she said. "I think I mentioned the kind, decent bit, didn't I?"

Once again, Harry didn't say anything as he processed what he'd just heard. "So…you like me?"

"Yes, Potter, I like you," Daphne sighed. "Do I have to take out an add in the _Prophet_ to make you believe me?"

"Only if you want to get Howlers from all over the country," Harry sighed.

"Harry, I've known how to explode Howlers before they open since third year."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. Let me use small words that your little Gryffindor brain can understand. I. Find. You. Very. Attractive."

"Attractive…that's a very big word. Just so you'll know, the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I'd just met Draco and he'd been a complete and total wanker, so I told it not to."

"Let's not tell Draco that, shall we? I'd have to give him the sack of galleons back."

"Yes…dear," Harry said, then braced for a smack that didn't come.

"You're learning, Potter. I knew all along that you'd be trainable." Daphne dropped a small kiss on Harry's scalp, then whispered into his ear once more. "Of course, we'll have to train each other in the bedroom, since we're both virgins, but I'm really looking forward to that part," she said. Then, she kissed his neck, and Harry found himself suddenly in agreement with at least some parts of the Slytherin's plans.

* * *

Harry and Daphne did get around to a bit of light snogging, but that was as far as things went. Most of the next few hours were spent going over the details of what Daphne and her friends wanted to accomplish.

"Draco and Pansy were betrothed when they were two, so their marriage is a done deal. It's been six or seven generations since the two families intermarried, so their children should be fine. It's probably the only reason their parents drew up the marriage contract; those two families have a long history of cordially hating one another." Daphne said. "Tracey and Blaise will be 'involved' but not married; Blaise is gay as the Queen of the May, and Tracey swings both ways but prefers fish to beef. Being 'an item' gives both of them cover, and still lets them live how they want. Tracey's going to be Minister some day, so a regular lover slash boyfriend is a necessity. Blaise wants to spend his time on European and ICW politics, so it works for him, too."

"What about Draco and Pansy? Aside from getting married, what will they be doing?" Harry found himself becoming more and more curious, the more he learned.

"Draco will take a Potions Mastery, of course," Daphne went on, Harry nodding in agreement. "Then, depending on the situation at that time, either a stint at St. Mungo's or right back here, teaching Potions. Pansy will go into the Ministry, probably the Unspeakables. We don't have a good source there, and she's the one who really likes the 'hush-hush' bits."

"And where do I fit in?" Harry asked carefully. It was the one topic he'd carefully avoided before then.

"You mean, when you're not ravishing your gorgeous wife, or spoiling our brood of incredibly talented and beautiful children, all of whom will grow up to be the next generation of leaders of the wizarding world?"

"Yeah. When I'm not doing that," Harry grinned. He was warming to the idea rapidly, especially the ' gorgeous wife' and 'brood' part. He was finally going to have a real family, all his own!

The little voice was stuck on 'ravishing', and giggled madly while repeating it over and over and over….

"Well, in what little spare time you'll have left over, you're going to be the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW," Daphne said calmly, then laughed as Harry sputtered.

"Suh…Supreme…but…" he began, then calmed down. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny."

Daphne pressed her lips to his head when she responded. "I'm not joking, Harry. Now, before you panic," she said, tightening her embrace. "Hear me out. We've got nothing against the North and South Americans; the Peruvians especially are quite nice, and easy to work with. Still, to make sure the Ministry doesn't completely cock up our world, we need the big wand of the ICW. It's no secret that Voldemort was just beginning a worldwide recruiting push, and now you've killed him. That gives you political capital no one else can possibly match. Oh, it won't be for a few years—none of us are anywhere near ready for what we'll have to do—but eventually, say fifteen or twenty years from now, we'll need the ICW on our side."

While Harry was digesting this, Daphne slid out from under him and then straddled him, leaning down to take his head in both hands. "You are not just a pawn on a chessboard any more, Harry. You're going to be my husband, and my lover, and my best friend, and the father of my children, and I'm going to be the same to you. Understand?" she asked, then kissed him firmly.

"How can you be the father of our children? I thought that was my job," Harry asked, his eyes glowing with mischief.

"Prat," was all Daphne said, before kissing him soundly once again.

* * *

"Harry, it's nearly curfew. We need to go back to our dorms."

Harry shifted slightly, pulling Daphne more tightly against him. They'd eventually settled into a very comfortable position on the divan, Harry leaning back against the arm and Daphne leaning against (and lying on) Harry.

"Don't wanna." Harry's voice was muffled by Daphne's hair.

"Harry…."

"Don't wanna. Like it here."

"And I like it too, but I have to be back before curfew." Daphne's voice was light but insistent.

"Killed the sodding Dork Lord, ought to be able to sit here with my girlfriend," Harry groused, but released his new girlfriend's (_!_) arms so that she could sit up.

"I know, there's no justice in the world," Daphne agreed, laughing as she sat up. "I promise, they'll be plenty of time for me to nap in your lap."

"Nap in my lap. I like the sound of that," Harry grinned.

"As do I. Now, one more thing before we go. Tomorrow, don't sit at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Come and sit with me at our table." Daphne smiled at her new boyfriend.

Harry froze, took a deep breath, and then blew it out. "You want everyone to know about…us?" he asked carefully.

Daphne leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips before answering. "Of course. It'll be all over the school by tomorrow afternoon anyway, why not go ahead and surprise everybody?"

"It'll be all over school because you'll start that rumor yourself, won't you?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Daphne.

"Naturally," Daphne smiled back, refusing to be cowed. "I've just landed the most desirable catch in the school and I will by Merlin show him off! I know you're not ashamed of me, are you, Potter?" she asked lightly.

Harry smiled, hearing the warning klaxons. "As if! My girlfriend, the future Mrs. Potter, mother of my adorable children, is the sexiest, smartest, most wonderful witch on the planet! How could I possibly be ashamed of you, my love?" he asked. Then, he turned the puppy dog eyes on full.

Daphne sat there for several long seconds, her face a perfect mask. Then, she dissolved into giggles. "You, Harry Potter, are so full of shite, if you shook your head it'd drip out your ears!"

"I'm not joking, Daphne," Harry said softly, taking her hands in his own. "You are sexy, and smart, much smarter than me, and I don't know just what I've done to deserve you."

"Killed a Dark Lord, for starters," Daphne laughed, then sobered. "Even without that, you'd still be one hell of a catch for any girl. That you'd say something like that, and mean it like you do, proves it." Reaching out, she pulled Harry into a long, soul-searing kiss. "Knowing I'm smarter than you is just a bonus," she laughed, standing up and pulling Harry up after her.

"Yes, beautiful."

"See, what did I say? Very trainable," Daphne smiled, thoroughly pleased with how the day had gone.

"You realize there's going to be a scene tomorrow morning when I sit with you," Harry made the question a statement.

"I'll be disappointed if there isn't," Daphne smirked. "Care to wager on who starts it?"

"No. You'll call Ron and Ginny, so you'll win, regardless. They'll be the ones to start something." Harry winced as he thought about the next morning.

"Not Granger?" Daphne didn't disagree, but she wanted to hear Harry's reasoning.

"Hermione'll be too gobsmacked, at first. Then, she'll wait to see how the Professors respond, and take her cue from them. She's too dependent on authority figures telling her how to think and behave to do anything else. Plus, she doesn't have the Weasley temper. I'd say it's probably sixty to forty Ron over Ginny." Harry's analysis rolled off his tongue easily, and Daphne was impressed despite herself.

"Reasonable," she said. "Just to make it sporting, how about I take Ginny, and you take Ron?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Won't be much of a wager without stakes. What do I get if I win?"

"More of _this_," Daphne said, then kissed Harry hard enough to make his toes curl.

Shaking his head, Harry grinned. "Okay. And if you win, _you_ get _this_," he said, then grabbed Daphne, pulled her into an equally long and hard kiss, and loosed his magic so that it flowed over and around the Slytherin.

When Harry finally released Daphne, she was panting for breath. "Mordred and Morgana! Harry, where did you learn to do that?" she gasped.

Harry pulled his girlfriend, soon to be fiancé, into a gentle hug. "Ask me again on our wedding night," he whispered, his tone making Daphne quiver.

Miss Greengrass did make it back to the Slytherin dorms by curfew, but only just.

* * *

The next morning Harry followed the Poo Patrol into the Great Hall, but cut away from them once he was inside. Hermione and Ron were so busy arguing about something irrelevant and useless—possibly Ron's homework, Harry really hadn't listened—and didn't notice Harry's absence until they'd already sat down and were serving their plates.

Well, in Ron's case, dumping the serving trays onto his plate, but you get the idea.

It actually was Neville Longbottom who, coming into the Hall, spotted Harry at the Slytherin table first, and froze in place there in the door, causing several people to bump into him.

"Harry?" Neville called out softly, confusion writ plain on his face.

"Morning, Nev," Harry waved back. "Fine morning, isn't it? Why don't you…?"

"HARRY! YOU'RE SITTING WITH THE SLYTHERINS!" Ginny's screech silenced the hall for a second, until Ron also exploded.

"Hmmph! Sthhhmmnns? Whhh uhhh uuummm hhuummmiiihhnnn hhuuuhh hhhuhh Sthhhhmmmnnns?"

Harry ignored the pair, and turned to Daphne. "Draw? Neither of us bet on Neville."

"I think I won; Ginny screamed first," Daphne smiled.

"All right," Harry smiled back, then leaned over and kissed her soundly.

"Mr. Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for such an unseemly display, and another ten for sitting at the wrong table," McGonagall thundered.

Harry winked at Daphne and turned his head. "So, Professor," he smirked. "Twenty points taken off for kissing my girlfriend before breakfast. I'm curious…how many million points did I get for killing Voldemort?" he asked, staring directly at his Head of House.

McGonagall gasped, hand clutching her bosom reflexively. "Mr. Potter! I'll thank you to show some respect!"

"I asked a serious question, Professor. How many points do I get for killing Voldemort?" Harry's voice was calm and very, very cold. He noticed that his new friends were among the few in the Hall that didn't wince every time he said the name.

"I hardly think…" McGonagall began, but Harry cut her off.

"No, really! I killed the most evil, vicious Dark Lord in recent memory; how many points is that worth? Surely it ought to be worth something? Oh, wait…house points don't really matter in the real world, do they?" he sneered.

"Mr. Potter! I'll see you after breakfast, in my office!" McGonagall barked. She sat there, fuming, while the entire Hall broke out in a buzz of conversation.

"Harry! What's gotten into you?" Hermione said, almost running across the Hall, Ron and Ginny right behind her.

"Certainly not the stick that's up your arse, that's for sure," Harry spoke without turning around, making sure his voice carried.

"Harry James Potter! Turn around this instant!" Hermione demanded.

"Or what? You'll hex me in the back?" Harry shrugged, reaching for the bacon. "Feel free. Just realize that I might over-react; the last person to hex me is pushing up daisies." Picking up a piece of, for once, uncontaminated bacon, he began munching it contentedly.

_That_ froze the Gryffindor threesome in their tracks. "Harry, mate, those slimy Snakes have done something to you! We've got to get you to Madam Pomphrey; she'll have you sorted in no time," Ron sputtered, having swallowed most of what was in his mouth. Mostly.

"Harry, you kissed Greengrass! She must have slipped you a love potion!" Ginny bleated.

"Like you've been doing, Gin Gin?" Harry turned around, his eyes glowing. "Didn't think I'd find out about that, did I? Didn't Molly teach you about covering your tracks? Oh, wait, she never covered hers, now did she?"

Ginny reeled back in shock, Hermione and Ron gaping at her. Ron was the first to recover, while Hermione stood there, a look of concentration on her face.

"You take that back, Harry! My sister would never…!"

"Your sister already _has_, with half the boys in the fifth, six and seventh years, you idiot!" Daphne snapped. "She hasn't needed a broom to get her heels in the air since fourth year!"

At that, Ginny turned and ran from the Great Hall, sobbing. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw several Professors descending from the High Table, obviously coming to interrupt the show.

Harry waved his fingers, causing Ron's half-drawn wand to sail across the room and into his waiting hand. "Ron, I know that you weren't about to hex my _girlfriend_," Harry said, leaning on the last word. "That wouldn't be nice at all, and I might get _upset_ if you did." The grin on his face made several of the younger students whimper.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Hermione wailed. Part of her suddenly realized that her world had just undergone a radical shift, and it terrified her.

"I'm trying to eat breakfast with my girlfriend, and my _other_ friends," Harry turned his grin on Hermione, who whimpered as well. "Oh, and doing this," he said, dropping Ron's wand into a large bowl of hot porridge.

"Harry! My wand!" Ron yelped, lunging for the bowl.

"Bob for it, Ronnikins. It won't be the first time you've gone face down in the bowl. Just please, for the sake of all our appetites, do it at some other table," Harry said.

"Potter! Me office! Now!" McGonagall stormed up, her brogue thick enough to slice and serve on toast.

Harry turned in his seat but did not rise. "Professor, you are a talented and powerful witch, but I've killed worse. I'll be more than happy to meet you after breakfast, but now," he shrugged. "I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat." Turning back, he smiled at Draco, Blaise and Pansy, who were all trying to keep from laughing out loud. "Pass the toast, please," Harry said in a natural voice. "Oi! Malfoy! Stop hogging the jam."

After that, it was a relatively uneventful breakfast. Just another day at hoggy woggy old Hogwarts. Harry even got jam for his toast—strawberry! His favorite!

* * *

McGonagall ranted, raved, scolded, castigated, rebuked, remonstrated and generally dressed Harry up, down and sideways while he sat there, calmly munching on a pastry he'd snagged on his way out of the Great Hall. When she finally wound down with a "so, Mr. Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?", Harry knew it was his turn. So, he answered her.

He began by reminding her that she was at least partially responsible for him being left on the Dursley's doorstep like a parcel, and gave her the quick version of the next ten years in hell that'd he'd spent there. Then, he reminded her of all the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of several Hogwarts faculty members while she had been the Deputy Headmistress, not to mention the number of times she'd looked the other way while Albus Bloody Sodding Buggering Dumbledore played his little games, not only with him but the lives of the entire student body. He gave special attention to her 'keep your head down' advice his fifth year, and showed her the permanent scars on his hand from that lovely little blood quill—a borderline Dark Object, legal ONLY when used for signing magical contracts. Speaking of which, he'd done a bit of checking (actually, Tracey Davis had told him the day before, but he didn't say that); since he didn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire, he wasn't bound by it. Otherwise, they could have just dropped Voldemort's name in, confounded it so that Tom's name was spat out, then waited for him to either show up and compete or loose his magic.

Next, Harry spent a few minutes discussing his overall treatment at the hands of the former Headmaster, with special emphasis on his 'little games' and schemes, his allowing such piss-poor teachers as Lockhart and Binns to 'teach'; letting Snape within fifty meters of a child, and letting Quirrell—QUIRRELL, who was POSESSED, and don't even suggest the man who used Legilimency about as casually as he breathed didn't know _that_—go an entire year before a first year student had to destroy him, while using a priceless magical artifact as sodding bait! And, let's not forget how Harry's godfather was treated, what with being sent to Azkaban for ten years without a trial—wasn't that something it was the sodding Chief Warlock or buggering Supreme Mugwump or _somebody's_ job to prevent things like that from happening? Wasn't it terribly convenient for the Headmaster to have the person with the strongest claim to custody over baby Harry locked up, where he couldn't possibly interfere with Dumbledore's plans? Pity the old dog had to escape, wasn't it?

Harry allowed he could almost see an imposter passing himself off as a more-than-slightly crazed 'old friend' for a day or so, but a whole year? Oh, please….

Finally, Harry asked McGonagall if, just perhaps, she'd known half of what the old coot had been up to, and if so, why had she sat back and let it happen? Or did she really not care that a troll, a basilisk, a few dozen Dementors and various and sundry homicidal maniacs had rampaged through the castle over the last few years while Harry had to stumble about as best he could, uninformed, untrained, and every year sent back to an abusive residence—he refused to call Privet Drive a 'home'—all because of the Great Albus Dumbledore's twisted plan for the Greater Good? Was she that ignorant, that negligent, that far up Dumbledore's arse…or was she secretly a Dark Lady herself, biding her time until Harry killed Voldemort to eliminate the competition?

"So, I wonder, Professor," Harry finished, leaning back in his chair, his fingers resting lightly on his wand. "How long will it be before I have to kill you, too?" He sat there, his face grim, while he waited for the stunned woman to respond.

McGonagall sat there for several long moments. She'd actually passed 'shocked' and 'stunned' early in Harry's little diatribe. She'd known, at least on some level, what was going on, but to hear it all laid out in graphic detail in one long litany of horrors…it was beyond incredible, what the boy had been through! How could Albus…how could she…how could any of them, the faculty at what was supposed to be the world's finest school of magic, let that go on, and not stand up _en mass_ to stop it?

Minerva McGonagall let her head drop as the full weight of what she'd allowed to pass came crashing down on her. Then, slowly, she raised her head and looked into eyes that were decades older than the body of the young man sitting before her.

"Mr. Potter…Harry…" she began.

"Mr. Potter will do, although technically it's Lord Potter-Black," Harry's voice was ice cold.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began again, carefully. "I'm not quite sure how I should respond to your accusations."

Harry shrugged. "You can't. You were Dumbledore's tool, just like most of the other fools in his Order, and the Ministry, too. At least the Death Eaters never lied to me. They wanted me dead, period; I never had to wonder where I stood with them, or Voldemort. Maybe I should have just joined Tom back in my first year, when he asked me to," Harry said, as if the thought had just occurred. "Maybe I could borrow a Time Turner from the Ministry, if I told them it was all for the 'Greater Good'," he grinned his evil grin again. "Isn't it about time that _my_ 'greater good' was the one I paid attention to?" he asked silkily.

McGonagall drew back as if struck. "Mr. Potter! You can't be serious!" she gasped, her heart racing. Surely the boy wouldn't….

Harry's laughter was only a touch bitter. "No, I wouldn't," he said, then stared directly at his teacher. "Because now, finally, I have something worth living for, and decent prospects for my life!" he snapped. "Yesterday, a bunch of Slytherins actually said 'thank you' for killing that evil bastard, and you know what? They. Were. The. First. The FIRST!" Harry thundered. "The rest of you just seemed to take it for granted, like it wasn't anything worth mentioning. Then, this morning, when all I wanted to do was have a relatively peaceful, enjoyable breakfast with those same appreciative people, I was rudely interrupted and harassed, and my girlfriend was threatened. I dealt with the threat with a minimum of fuss—I could have snapped Ron's wand, you know—but I chose not too. Now," he said, rising. "I'll continue going to classes, and take my NEWTS, not that I need them. I suspect that 'Killed Voldemort' is all the resume I'll ever need. However, I now have other reasons for continuing on here at Hogwarts until I graduate. Know this, though. I will _not_ be subject to any harassment from any students or faculty during the remainder of my time here, nor will I allow any of my new friends to suffer it, either. I will defend them, and myself, at need. I also won't be doing any detentions or other punishments for doing so. If I need to, I'll go to the press and tell them my side of the story, and let the court of public opinion decide."

McGonagall sat there, her mind racing as she worked through the implications of what Harry just said. Given the state of euphoria throughout the nation, Harry could probably get away with using all three Unforgivables on the Minister himself in the middle of Diagon Alley, and no one would say anything about it. If Harry told the _Prophet_ what he'd just told her, Albus Dumbledore's—and Hogwarts', and Minerva McGonagall's—reputations would all fall into the gutter faster than you could say _Avada Kedavra_. But, hopefully it won't come to that.

"Mr. Potter, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from public displays of affection such as you put on this morning."

Harry nodded. "I can do that. However, I will be holding hands, and all the other things other students have been doing for years. I don't want to be treated any differently than anyone else."

McGonagall sighed. "But what about house points? You've just effectively removed yourself from the points system."

"Not really. It's just that I don't care about them," Harry shrugged. "When I was a firstie, they mattered to me. Now, I know better."

"I…see." McGonagall sighed again. She had the feeling that she'd be doing that a lot in the days to come. "And your new…friends? And…girlfriend?" she asked neutrally.

Again, Harry shrugged. "I don't speak for them. I do know that they're all going to try to do well on their NEWTS, and we'll be revising together."

"What about Miss Granger?" McGonagall carefully didn't mention either of the Weasley children still at Hogwarts.

"I'm sure she'll do well," Harry said coolly. "Hopefully, she can pull Ron through with at least a couple of passing scores."

"You won't be studying with her?"

"Not on a bet." Harry's face could have been carved from marble.

Well, Minerva told herself, after this morning I'm not surprised about that. "And the House Cup?"

Again, one of those 'I could really give a damn' shrugs. "Don't care. By rights, my killing Voldemort should have been enough to give it to Gryffindor for the next hundred years, but Dumbledore's already dead and you're too fair to do that. Daphne might like it if I helped Slytherin get it," he smiled, "but somehow I don't think you'd let me give my zillion points to Slytherin, would you?"

"Hardly," McGonagall sniffed, then caught herself. Suspiciously, she looked at her student. "Zillion points? Pray tell, exactly how many is that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry laughed, his mood lightening. "Enough to fill the Great Hall up to the ceiling, Professor. Do you want me to show you?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. You may go," McGonagall finished.

Grinning, Harry left, a bounce in his step.

Alone in the Headmaster's office, now hers, Minerva McGonagall looked at the calendar she'd mounted on the wall. All she had to do was last until the end of the term, and then….

She'd never found herself quite so eager for the summer break in all her years of teaching.

* * *

_**Twenty-odd Years Later…**_

_From the Daily Prophet:_

**NEW HEIR CONFIRMED BY WIZENGAMOT**

Sources in the Ministry report that Orion Sirius Potter-Black, age fifteen, second son of Lord and Lady Harry Potter, was recently confirmed as Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Heir Black follows in the footsteps of his older brother James Charles Potter, age seventeen, who two years ago was confirmed as Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter.

"Thankfully, I won't be the Head of House Black for a long time," Heir Black said in an interview following his confirmation ceremony before the Wizengamot. "Dad's still going to hold the Black seat, along with his other two. All this means is that I'm formally the Heir, and can stand in for my Dad in the Wizengamot when he's away on business."

Readers will recall that Lord Potter currently holds the Potter, Black and Greengrass seats in the Wizengamot, and has been allowing his eldest son to occasionally take his place, voting Lord Potter's three proxies under his direction. Previously, Lord Potter has stated that he wants his sons to be well prepared to assume their duties should the need arise.

It is suspected that two years from now Lord and Lady Potter's youngest son, Andrew Harold Potter-Greengrass, age thirteen, will be confirmed as Heir of the Ancient House of Greengrass, in keeping what has become a family tradition.

The Motion to Confirm young Mr. Potter-Black as Heir Black was brought by Lord Draco Malfoy, seconded by Lord Neville Longbottom. Mr. Potter-Black was presented to the Wizengamot by his elder brother James Charles Potter, Heir Potter, and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Heir Malfoy. The Oath of Fealty to the Wizengamot was administered by Senior Assistant Undersecretary to the Minister Tracey Davis, ably assisted by the British Ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards, Lord Blaise Zabini, both long-time friends of the Potter family. Lady Potter (the former Miss Daphne Greengrass) and Lady Malfoy (the former Miss Pansy Parkinson) viewed the confirmation and investiture from the Gallery.

We at the _Daily Prophet _congratulate the new Heir Black on his confirmation, and commend Lord Potter for his wisdom and forethought in preparing his sons for their eventual duties.

_From The Quibbler:_

**LADY POTTER TELLS ALL**

_Lady Daphne Potter nee Greengrass gives exclusive interview to The Quibbler!_

-Lady Potter's thoughts on raising children—page three

-Lady Potter on what it's like to be married to the smoking-hot love-monkey that is Harry Potter—page four

-Lady Potter reveals she's pregnant again, and 'this time, we're hoping for a girl'—page six

-Did Harry Potter find Helga Hufflepuff's long-lost _Guide to Magical Sexual Ecstasy_, and where did he find it? _The Quibbler_ examines the evidence—page eight

-Reasons we'd like to hate Daphne Potter, but can't because she's a good friend—page nine

_From Teen Witch Weekly:_

**TEAM JAMES, TEAM SCORPIUS, GET READY! HERE COMES TEAM ORION!**

_And We've Got the Pictures to Prove It!_

**FINIS**

**A/N:** Well, another plot bunny put to rest! I'm eager to see just what kind of omakes come from my challenge. Please remember to keep them 'M'. It's perfectly fine to have them set after Harry's Saturday in the Three Broomsticks, and have the Slytherins there. You could also have Hermione, Ron and Ginny there, but remember-Harry's done with them, so no 'Harry and Ginny kiss and make up because it's fated to be so'. If you do, I'll post it, but I will also excoriate it unmercifully.

I'll probably gather up a few omakes into one post, so don't panic if you don't see yours up fifteen minutes after you send it to me (by PM). Remember: Brevity is the Soul of Wit. Good luck and good writing!


	4. Omakes

**Challenge Omakes**

_**SilverLion80**__ was the first to respond to the Omake challenge, with this:_

**A/N:** The Elders and Paige Matthews courtesy of Charmed and the fine folks who brought us the series. Harry Potter and Co. courtesy of the lovely lady in Merrye Olde Englande, J.K. Rowling. The Chosen and Mystra are on loan from Ed Greenwood and the good people of Wizards of the Coast, and yes I'm ignoring some of the recent changes to the Forgotten Realms universe (go look up your own spoilers), because this is FANFICTION, and I can do that. I OWN NOTHING, so bugger off!

After breakfast on Sunday morning, wherein Harry let himself have a bit of a lie-in, he received yet more visitors offering him a place with their organization. The first was heralded by the appearance of a dark-haired woman with very fair skin who entered the Great Hall in a swirl of bluish-white spheres. She introduced herself as Paige Matthews, a Whitelighter and member of the Charmed Ones. She was there to set up a meeting with the Elders.

They seemed nice enough, on the surface, and the healing abilities would be a nice enough bonus, but Harry really didn't see the need to die in order to become a whitelighter. When Paige brought him to them, the orbing alone seemed more enjoyable by far, than apparition, but, that whole dying thing just seemed to go a bit far. Perhaps after he truly did die, he would have considered being a whitelighter, but he didn't like how they liked to manipulate those who worked for them. Paige had dropped a few words in his ear before his audience with them began, especially about what they had done to her and her sisters over the years.

"Thank you all the same, but I am not interested," said Harry politely, before asking Paige to take him back, promising that when he finished school, he'd swing by San Francisco and visit Halliwell's, and then the Manor.

The next bunch were even more interesting. Lead by a tall woman with long hair of pure black, this group wore clothing that would let them blend right in to the wizarding world, save for two members whom actually wore armor, of all things. Seven of them were women, one with black skin and pointed ears, like an elf, and another whom was see-through, like a ghost. All had long silvery hair that seemed to move of its own accord. Two were men, one with a beard to rival Dumbledore's and the other had a shorter beard of salt-and-pepper hair. "Greetings, Mortal. Gaze upon me and be not afraid, for I am Mystra, goddess of magic of all Faerun."

"Faerun?" questioned Harry. "Where's that?"

"A world far removed from this one. A place where my power permeates the very planet, and is watched and guarded by my Chosen and myself. It is my desire, young Harry, to grant to you the sum and total benefits of being one of my Chosen, whom you see arrayed behind me. OH! Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce them to you. Before you, you see the Seven Sisters, Dove, Sylune, Laeral, Alustriel, Qilue, Storm, and the Simbul. These two rogues are Elminster and Khelben. They have served me long and served me well, and they are family to each other and to me." Those last words sent a twang of longing through Harry.

He gazed at each of the Chosen. They all seemed very pleasant, though there was an obvious gruffness to Khelben. Laeral clung to his arm, and judging by the paired rings they both wore, they were married.

"Great Lady," began Harry. "I am honored by your consideration, but I truly wish to live here, where I already know people, though some get on my nerves. If I could serve you here, I would, but I'm guessing that your power doesn't extend here to Earth. If it pleases you, ma'am, I just want to live my own life, maybe start a family, without having to be constantly looking over my shoulder for possible knives to my back. I am truly sorry, but I have to decline."

"As am I," stated Mystra, a trace of gentile sadness in her voice. "Still, if you should change your mind, or just need a place of refuge, just activate this beacon. You must have it in hand, and must press on the rune and state 'Chosen' in a clear voice. It shall transport you, and those holding you that you trust to Faerun, to my realm of Dweomerheart." Elminster gave him a small crystal sphere roughly the size of his closed fist, and there on the surface was indeed a rune.

"Thank you, Lady Mystra. It was wonderful to meet you and your Chosen. Perhaps we can meet again some day."

"Normally, I say 'farewell' but as the Blackstaff is wont to say, fare better." With those parting words, the group vanished in a blinding burst of light that left spots in the vision of all whom beheld the group, that is to say, everyone that was currently in the Great Hall.

* * *

_**Vixen Uchiha**__ sent the following:_

I was sitting on a muggle bus waiting for my stop I was on my way to see Andromeda and Teddy, I was worried about her she had not answered any of the owls I had sent. She had went to ground as muggle to keep safe. Even though I had only sent three, when the last one came back I had told my head of house and the schools newest headmistress that I was going to be gone for the day.

She just smiled at me and said to take my time, as the wards where still down a apparated out of her office and took some more jumps down to London where I had gotten on a bus not before having to turn down some guy named Strange whom wanted to teacher me. His offer made me almost yell at him, I should have reported him to the ministry but they more that like would have blamed me for talking about magic in front of muggles. If the guy wanted me to learn form him he could have offer sometime ago just maybe Teddy's parent would be raising him and not his Grandmother and his Godfather.

Remus had made me promise his son would not go to his parents, while they did not hate him out right they had feared him enough that he knew he was no longer loved.

"What has you looking so sad, he dead and his followers are running for the hills knowing their time is limited." said the young man whom sat cross from me.

I looked at him and thought I knew him from someplace but could not figurer out where. What I did know was the man was a wizard. I could just see his wand poking out his jacket sleeve. He was well dress so he must have been a muggle-born.

"I am worried I won't be a good Godfather." I told him for some reason, he smiled at me and I thought it odd. He said nothing as we pulled into the next stop where a man with a long brown coat was waiting by a call box.

"Don't worry about it Harry you make a great Godfather." the man said as he stepped off, I wasn't surprised he knew who I was but found it odd he told he I would be a great Godfather. The bus was already pulling out and by the time I had turned around both men where gone along with the call box.

I was just a block away from the house Andromeda was living in when a man stopped me telling me he was part of the N.I.D and asked to talk to me. I got the feeling they would not talk can we talk later I had things to do. Two hours later I had stunned and erased their memory of meeting me and for good measure used that wine spell I had looked up in fourth year.

After leaving them behind I hurried back the way I had come, I had to let myself into the house. While it was clear there was something wrong, there was an odd smell to the air. I found Andromeda asleep in the bed room while Teddy sat crying he had been clearly spelled silent.

I sent a stinging hex at his Grandmother, smiling as she yelped before falling off the bed.

"I'll be taking Teddy with me, when you want to see your grandson again you know where to find me." I said before leaving. I ducked into an alley and called for Kreacher and told him to get some baby things as I had left with out the needed supplies.

After the supplies had been delivered I made my way to a small café I need a strong cup of tea. I had just pulled out the suppies to make Teddy's bottle when a very well dressed man sat down at my table. I pulled Teddy a little closer wishing I knew the age is was safe to apparate with him. I would however settle for having my wand trained on him under the table.

"Relax Mr. Potter I was going to offer you a job but I do not employ people with children." The man said, that did not make me feel any better.

"Here is you tea sir." a waitress said sitting my tea down, she smiled then told us we made use a cute family. I blushed at that but said nothing I was to shock to do so, it was Teddy crying that made me focus. I rocked him and check his nappy, "Here his hungry." the man said holding out a bottle. I took it and was clearly lost what to do next, "When did you get him?" the man asked stand up and moving over to me. He adjusting my hold on Teddy and showed me how to feed him and even burr him.

"Thanks, I just got him today. I am his Godfather you see and his parent died not to long ago he was in the care of his Grandmother but she is not taking things to well. I can some what understand her, I mean she lost so much, a husband, a daughter and her son-in-law all with in a year. So I am going to step up and help even if it means I have a baby in class with me." I said, he smiled at me and handed me a card.

"Call me if you have any questions." he said before walking off.

"I thought you did not employ people with children?" I asked, he stopped a turned to me somewhat.

"I don't but us single parents have to stick together." he said before leaving complete, it was than I noticed the name on the card Loki. I tucked it into the nappy bag and headed out to buy a car seat. If I had to take Teddy on the night bus I would make sure he was strapped in and a hex or two would make them wait till I made sure he was safe. I sighed wondering if I could finish the year out form home at least I would not have to deal with the poo patrol.

* * *

_**TwistyGuru:**__ Several people commented that Harry's acceptance of the Slytherin's offer seemed a bit hasty. Hopefully, this will make things a bit more clear._

Harry leaned back against the tree trunk and pulled Daphne a bit closer to him.

It had been almost a week since that fateful Sunday when he'd met—well, been dragged into a room with—the 'Slytherin Cabal', and he was still getting used to the idea of having not only friends but a girlfriend and fiancé. He knew that most of the school was convinced he'd been dosed with Amortentia or something like it. He'd worried about the same thing, so he'd asked Poppy check him out.

The mediwitch had done her scans, then smiled at him. "Harry, there's absolutely no sign of any potion or enchantment. Isn't it possible that you're just in love with the girl?"

"Poppy, I don't think I know what love is," Harry sighed. "It's not like I can remember getting any growing up."

Poppy made herself keep her face neutral. She was one of the very few people who knew about Harry's history with the Dursleys. It had been a major point of contention between the school nurse and Dumbledore for years. Poppy had tried several times to report the Dursleys to wizarding Child Services, but Dumbledore blocked her every attempt. Finally, she'd threatened to go to the press, but Dumbledore had finally explained the blood wards to her. Ultimately, she'd been convinced that Harry did indeed need to return to the Dursleys every summer, but she'd insisted that the Headmaster speak with the Dursleys.

She'd been outraged to find out, after Dumbledore's death, that he'd either lied to her or forgotten his promise. She'd apologized profusely to Harry on several occasions, to the point that he finally asked her to stop. Since then, she'd become a good friend to the Boy Who Lived, as well as _de facto_ confident and therapist.

"Harry, I don't think you should worry about it. I don't see anything out of the ordinary, which is itself quite unusual for you, young man!"

Harry'd just grinned and ducked his head, then beat a hasty retreat out of the hospital wing.

Now, though, he felt like he needed to at least talk with Daphne about it.

"Daphne," he began, then stopped, uncertain about how to continue.

After several moments, Daphne shifted to look back into Harry's eyes. "Something's bothering you," she said. "Out with it, Potter!" she ordered, smiling at him to soften her words.

"I…I just…I don't know what I'm doing here," Harry finally managed.

"What you're doing, Harry, is sitting against a tree by the Black Lake, holding your girlfriend, waiting for the Giant Squid to decide it wants to show off," Daphne said easily.

"I know that! It's just…." Harry shook his head. "It's this whole 'girlfriend' thing," he sighed. "Everyone…well, almost everyone thinks that you really did dose me with a love potion, or spell, or something like that," he finished. It sounded lame even to him.

"Poppy didn't find anything, did she?" Daphne asked.

Harry started. "How did you…?" Then, he paused. "Sources, right?" He sighed again when Daphne gave him a crooked smirk. Merlin knew he'd heard that often enough the past few days, and every time he resolved not to even ask.

Part of him suspected that he'd still be asking for the next several decades before he finally gave it up as a bad job.

"Harry," Daphne began, then shifted around to face him. "I went to Poppy. I knew that if anyone would know about you, she would." She paused, then her mouth pressed into a thin line. "You've spent more time under her care than any other student in recent memory. Merlin, she's set aside the 'Harry Potter' bed!"

"She shouldn't have said anything," Harry whispered.

"She didn't want to, at first. Then, when I told her that I wanted to date you, and more, she gave me the 'shovel talk'". Daphne paused, enjoying the look of confusion on Harry's face. "She told me that if I hurt you, she would beat me to death with a shovel, and then use that shovel to dismember my body and bury the pieces in widely-separated places." Daphne shook her head and smiled as Harry's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Poppy does care about you, Harry. So, I convinced her that I really needed to know about you, because I'm serious about us having a future together. She sent me a note right after you left the hospital wing, letting me know that you'd been in to see her." Seeing that Harry wasn't convinced, she kissed him lightly. "I should already have talked about this with you," she admitted softly. "For that, I'm sorry."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he only looked at her.

Daphne sighed when she saw the confusion, uncertainty and fear in his face. "You think we're going too fast, and you don't know why you feel this way." It wasn't a question. "You think you should have taken more time, at least a few days, until you agreed to join us. More importantly, you're worried about _us_, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. Daphne winced, then leaned forward to rest her forehead on his.

"Harry…you have to believe me when I tell you that I'm not worried about us at all. I meant what I said about you being the kindest, gentlest, most decent man I know, despite what you've been through. Yes, I know about your relatives, and how they treated you," she went on, hurriedly. "How I know isn't important—and it wasn't all Poppy, either—and I know you don't like to talk about it, and that's fine. At some point you'll want…no, _need_…to talk about it, and when you do, I'll be here to listen. For now, just know that I know, and I don't care, because it's part of who and what you are and I love every part of you."

Harry looked into Daphne's eyes, then looked away. "That's just it, Daphne. I don't understand how you can feel that way about me," he said.

Daphne's heart clenched at the pain in her boyfriend's voice. "Harry…don't you feel that way about me?" she asked.

Harry nodded, refusing to meet her eyes.

Daphne thought a moment, then chose her words carefully. "That's what's bothering you, isn't it? You feel things for me you've never felt before, and that scares you, doesn't it? You're afraid you shouldn't be feeling this much, this soon. Is that it?"

Harry nodded again, still looking away.

Daphne leaned back, then reached up and turned Harry's face back to hers. "I should have done this sooner," she said, wiping away a tear from Harry's cheek with her thumb. "Harry…this is my fault. I suspected this might happen, and I should have taken steps to make it less frightening for you. No, let me finish," she said, stopping Harry from speaking with a finger on his lips. "I didn't have to use a spell or potion on you. I suspected—Merlin, I hoped! —that something like that would happen. I know it was selfish of me, but in my own defense, I thought it might be best for both of us if I just let it happen."

"Let what happen?" Harry asked carefully.

Now it was Daphne's turn to look away. "People who've been abused as children usually have problems dealing with love and affection, both giving and receiving. I knew enough about you to hope that you'd at least be able to return what I tried to give you, and I think I was right." Daphne paused, trying to let Harry see her sincerity in her eyes. "When I kissed you, it was one of the first times you'd ever been kissed—_really kissed_—wasn't it?"

Harry nodded. He'd kissed Cho once, and Ginny a few times, but Daphne's kisses were nothing like that.

"I think…well, you probably went a little insane, that first day. Not in a bad way," she said quickly, "but in a 'totally shocked and happy' kind of way. Does that make sense?"

Harry thought for a second, then nodded. He'd suspected that very thing, so hearing Daphne confirm it wasn't that much of a surprise.

"We are moving a bit fast," Daphne continued, confirming Harry's suspicions. "Most couples dance around each other for days or weeks, before dating and kissing. Since I really didn't want to waste any more time, I decided to skip that part. Oh, don't worry…we still just going to date for a while, so things should be pretty much normal from here on out; we just moved from casual acquaintances to girlfriend/boyfriend a lot quicker than most."

"What happens if we don't work out?" Harry asked softly.

Daphne snorted, amused. "Then we break up, and you loose the best thing that's ever happened to you. Namely _me_, Potter!" she snickered. Then, she sobered. "Don't think it'll all be butterbeer and chocolate frogs, because it won't. Like every other couple in the history of the world, we'll fight. In fact, we'll probably fight like two kneezles in a sack, and say things we don't mean and are really hurtful to the other."

"I'd never hurt you, Daphne," Harry said, deadly serious.

"And I don't want to hurt you, Harry, but it's going to happen. What we both need to remember is just how much we love each other, so that when one of us cools down enough to apologize, we can grovel, be forgiven, and then have terrific make-up sex." Daphne licked her lips, liking the effect it had on Harry. "In fact, I may just start a fight every now and then, just so we can have that make-up sex," she said, her throaty whisper causing interesting things to happen in Harry's lap.

Harry was still serious, and his concern showed. "But…I don't know if this is love or not," he whispered.

"And you think there should be something else, like an orchestra in the background, is that it?" Daphne was still snickering. "I suppose we could always hire one, but they're frightfully expensive. Couldn't we just snog instead?" she said, eyes twinkling.

Harry shook his head, suddenly angry. "I think we've done enough of that!" he snapped. "I mean…I don't really know you, you don't know me…isn't that what dating is supposed to be about? I just got out from under that damned prophecy, now you and the rest of your Cabal have already planned out my life for me? Don't I get a say?"

Daphne shifted suddenly, pinning Harry down as he tried to stand. "Calm down, Harry! Let me finish!" she snapped. Then, softer, "I promise, after I have my say, I'll let you up, and you can do whatever you think best."

Harry subsided, but his face was mulish. Daphne sighed, realizing that she had to tread carefully. She'd felt Harry's magic start to rise, and could still feel it simmering just below his skin.

"I meant it when I said you went a little crazy last Sunday," she said. "Not in a bad way, but in a 'never experienced this before' way. Since I wanted you to have that experience, I did everything I could to encourage it. I didn't need anything magical, because everything that you felt was perfectly normal, all things considered. I knew we'd have this conversation eventually, I just didn't think it'd be this soon." Daphne paused, then went on. "What you need to know is that what I feel for you is real, just like what you feel for me."

"Is…is this love?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"Not yet," Daphne smiled. "Call it…infatuation. But it will be love, in time. That's why we're dating, Harry. We're getting to know each other, and letting love develop."

"It sounds almost like another prophecy," Harry grimaced. "Like we don't have any other choice."

Daphne nodded. Finally, what Harry was really worried about. "Harry…even if we don't work out for some reason, I hope we stay friends," she began. "Despite the way I've talked, I don't know it for certain. Hope, yes; know…." She trailed off with a shrug. "But, I'm going to do everything I can to make it work, because I really do think you'll make a fine boyfriend, then husband, then father. Do you understand?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. Is that okay?"

Daphne nodded. "It'll do for now, so long as you're willing to give us a chance."

Harry's mouth pressed into its own tight line, then relaxed into a smile. "I suppose I could tolerate a bit more snogging," he said.

Daphne felt her tension drain away. "Prat," she said, leaning in to kiss Harry deeply, thrilled as always when he returned her kiss. Merlin, he can kiss! she thought.

Harry gave himself over to the kiss. He still had questions, and concerns, and knew he and Daphne would have to talk about this again, and soon. For now, though, he was content to go on, and see what happened.

Since 'going on' would involve lots of snogging with a beautiful witch, he supposed there were worse fates.

**A/N:** That's it for now. Please let **SilverLion80** and **Vixen Uchiha** know just how much you appreciate their work. Now, get cracking on YOUR omakes!


	5. Omakes 2 and NEW Challenge

**Challenge Omakes 2**

**Hotflower901** sent in this omake:

Subject: offers.

Harry was sitting in a muggle cafe just wondering what to do next. Daphne

said to give them time. Harry just wanted the world to stop spinning. "Mr

Potter may I join you", Harry looked up into the face of a man. This man was

older, steel blue eyes that noticed everything and grey short hair. Gesturing

toward opposite seat Harry said "Of course". "How is your recovery coming"

ask the man. Harry looked up to him, "fine". "Good, do you know what you

want to do after you school"? Harry, tilting his head, asked "What are you

offering"? "An opportunity to use your skills for survival, adapting, and

investigating. The pay is not great and the hours are long but the job in

rewarding". "Why me" asked Harry. "You have proven that you can observe,

adapt and overcome." "If you want more information, give me a call". Harry

took the man's card and shook hands. His hands were rough, like he worked

with wood a lot. NCIS- JL Gibbs. Hmmm, thought Harry, "maybe.

* * *

**A/N:** And, that's it! Please let **Hotflower901** know you appreciated the effort. Now, here's a **NEW Challenge!**

Harry and Daphne's fourth child is a girl, Amanda Lily Potter, who is sorted into Slytherin to absolutely no one's surprise. Sadly, there are no more family lines for her to inherit. But, as a girl, she can reasonably expect to be a 'hot prospect' for young noble wizarding men wanting a mother for their heirs. After all, she's rich, well connected and beautiful. Unfortunately (for any potential suitors) she's got three older brothers. So, **here's the challenge:**

Franklin Longbottom, eldest son of Neville and Hannah Longbottom, Heir Longbottom and de facto leader of Hufflepuff, is desperately in love with Amanda Potter. The challenge is to write the scene where Amanda's three brothers give him 'the shovel talk' ("This is a shovel. Hurt our sister and we will beat you to death with it, and then use it to bury you."), and Franklin's response.

I look forward to seeing what you can do with that!


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